Atlas Burdens
by vandiver49
Summary: What is the status of Enterprise 72 hours out from the battle at Azati Prime? Just my take on the situation.


Atlas Burdens  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.

   
This story can very well take place during "Damaged"

BETA done by the one and only Stub…

____________________________________

_"…__during a Xindi attack.  He gallantly gave his life in the defense of the ship, a sacrifice that saved countless lives.  On behalf of the entire crew of the __Enterprise__ and the Department of the Star Fleet, I send my deepest apologies for your loss."_

_Very respectfully,_

_Charles Tucker III_

_CDR       Star Fleet_

_Commanding Officer_

_USS Enterprise (NX-01)_

* * *

He scanned over the PADD one final time, checking for grammatical errors before tossing it aside with the rest.  Trip glanced over at the chronometer and winced, it was 1451 and he was mentally exhausted.  He leaned back in his chair and sighed as a slow throbbing began at his temples, a telltale sign of an on setting headache.  This day was like every other since they had arrived at Azati Prime, long and painful.  Only the chirping of the door broke him out of his solemn reverie.

"Enter."  He exclaimed from his reclined position.  Normally, he would have presented a more professional decorum, but it he knew who it was.

The doors parted to the Ready Room, revealing a haggard Lieutenant Reed who, despite the ships' dilapidated state, still maintained his sense of punctuality.  "Afternoon Captain."  He greeted, taking the chair across from Trip's desk.

"You know, I liked you better when you called me commander."  Trip retorted, still uncomfortable with his new title.

"Don't blame me sir," Malcolm countered, pointing towards the lone PADD opposite the others that rested on his desk.  "Blame that."  

Trip reached for said PADD, rereading for his own edification.

* * *

_CDR Tucker, _

_            Based on your last transmission, we assume that the weapon is on its way to Earth and we are devising a defensive strategy immediately.  __Enterprise__ will be essential to any plan we come up with.  As such, your orders are affix whatever repairs are necessary and head for Earth at maximum speed.  Effective immediately, you are to assume to role as Commanding Officer of __Enterprise__.  Lieutenant Reed is designated as First Officer until further notice.  We grieve for the loss of life and pray for your speedy recovery._

_ADM Forrest sends._

* * *

"So _First Officer, _what do you have for me?"  Trip asked, placing the digital memo back on the desk.

"Well sir," Malcolm started, "we've secured the hull fractures on C Deck and power has been restored to most of decks D and E.  Aside from a couple of incidental brown outs, the grid has been stabilized.  We've also completed the salvage from the cargo bays; but most of the material was destroyed."

"Don't you ever have any good news?"  Trip questioned sarcastically.  Unbeknownst to him, his First Officer was holding back.

"We'll I was going to tell you that the _Chief Engineer_ thinks she can restore the warp drive, but there's obviously no cheering you up." 

A smile tugged at the corner of Trip's mouth; even amidst all this chaos he appreciated Malcolm's levity.  But it evaporated quickly, for there was something else weighing heavily on Malcolm's conscience.  Trip could see it etched in the corners of his eyes.  "What?"

"She says that we'll be able to get underway around 2300."

'11pm.' Trip pondered silently.  'Seven, maybe eight hours tops before they had leave; before they would have the abandon their search for the _real_ Captain.'  Both men had refused to concede that their Captain had perished, but time was fleeting.  "Hoshi still hasn't found anything?"

Malcolm simply shook his head in response.  Three days of constant scanning had produced nothing save waning hope.  "How are you coming along?"  Malcolm asked as he picked up one the PADD's strewn across the far end of the desk.

"13 down, 21 to go."  Trip stated, finally sitting up in his chair.  "I just finished the ones for Davies, Simpson and Anderson."  

Malcolm looked at his friend, carefully examining the pained expression that adorned his face.  It was obvious these condolences were taking their toll on him.  "How long have you been working on these?"

Trip didn't reply, he knew Malcolm would not have approved of the answer.  "You know, back when I was supposed to be First Officer, I wanted to know everyone on the ship.  Where they were from, what they liked to do…"

"Sounds as if you were conducting a background check."  Malcolm quickly interjected, drawing a sardonic scowl from the Commander.

"Anyway, when I found out that I wasn't going to be, I still took the time to meet and greet the crew."  He continued, his voice laced with a tinge of anguish.  "It's like losing my sister all over again every time I write one of those."

"Sir, if I may be so bold, maybe you should to give it a rest."  

Trip was admittedly tired, but he really didn't have the time.  "I can't Malcolm, besides I have the next watch."

"That's not a problem sir; I can take it for you."  Malcolm suggested, anything to assuage Trip's current grief.

Trip started to shake his head and graciously decline Malcolm's offer, but Brit wouldn't hear of it.  "Listen sir, you've been working on those things for almost two days.  I'm not saying take a nap, just to take a break."

Trip pondered Malcolm's suggestion for a moment before responding.  "OK Malcolm, you gotta deal.  But let me know the moment anything changes."  

  
"Aye sir."  Malcolm replied as both men rose, making their way onto what was left of the bridge.  "Where are you heading?"  Malcolm inquired, but he was pretty sure of the answer.

"Engineering."

* * *

The journey to Engineering was not as easy as it used to be. The turbolift to the bridge had been damaged beyond repair during the attack.  The next serviceable lift was a deck below, forcing Trip to travel the old fashioned way; hand over hand, rung over rung.  It was during this dimly lit descent, that he granted himself a moment of self-reflection.

One third of the crew had perished during the melee.  The rest, left marooned on the edge of known space struggling to survive on a ship damaged beyond recognition.  Those that were left responded expertly though, getting the ship operational again in record time.  

Upon exiting the service tube, it was a short walk to working turbolift.  He entered quickly, waiting for the doors to close.  But they quickly sprang apart as a set of fingers wrapped around the edges, permitting another crewman to enter.

"Evening Major."  Trip greeted as the doors of the turbolift were finally allowed to close.

"Evening Captain." Hayes answered, keying his destination on the lift.  The two stood in a painful silence as the elevator slowly descended, it was driving Trip crazy.

  
"So Major, when will the weapons systems be back online?"

"The forward torpedo launchers are fully operational, which is more than can be said for the aft tubes."  Hayes started.  "I've been informed that phasers will be operational once the modifications to the power grid are complete."

This was good news, as _Enterprise_ would be certainly headed into a firefight.  But Trip wasn't sure if the ship could take another beating.  "What about hull plating?"

Though the Major's expression never changed, Trip could hear the dejection in his voice.  "It's a no-go sir.  We've got too many breaches to maintain an active field."

Trip simply shrugged his shoulders; it was a foolish to think that everything could be returned to normal. His grandmother always told him, 10% of something was always better than 100% of nothing.  Once again though, the awkward silence had returned.  Although this time it would be Hayes who preserved Trip's sanity.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"  

"Always Major, go ahead."

"Why'd you let him go?"

"Come again?"  Trip replied in confusion.

"Sir, I admire what you and this crew set out to do.  But in the end, you just explorers, not soldiers.  The Captain's mission should have been ours, not his.  It's why Starfleet wanted the MACO's onboard in the first place."

It was a question that had plagued his psyche for the past three days.  The only explanation he could give was the one the Captain offered before he set off into oblivion.  "Because the Captain would never ask anyone to undertake any task he wasn't prepared to do himself."

"But sir," Hayes started, before Trip raised his hand in pause.

"Major, regardless of Captain Archer's decision, we still have a mission to accomplish.  That weapon is still out there and chances are headed to Earth.  Now I'm on my way to Engineering to see when we'll be able to leave. What I need to know from you is when the time comes; will _Enterprise_ be able to make a difference?"  Trip asked, as the turbolift creaked to a halt.

"Without a doubt sir."  

"Very well Major, carry on."  Trip acknowledged, exiting the lift as the door opened.

He carefully navigated his way from the turbolift to Engineering, the deck littered with shoring braces for the emergency bulkhead, broken overhead lights and other miscellaneous debris.  But at least it was still here.

Twisted metal and scorched walls greeted him as he crossed the threshold into the heart of the ship, the space buzzing with activity.  But there was one sound that was noticeably absent and easily discernable to Trip's ears, the hum of the warp core.

"Hey!!  This ain't a tourist attraction, either get to work or get out!"  Exclaimed a voice from above.  It was decidedly female and resonated with a New England accent.  'Definitely Hess.' He thought to himself as he turned upward to the direction from which the voice emanated.

"Opps, sorry Chief."  She exclaimed, as if the news of his promotion had failed to reach Engineering.  She hurried down a ladder to great her former supervisor.  "What brings you down here sir?"

'Envy.' That was his silent answer to her question as he watched a team of crewman struggling to carry a set of casualty power cables to an EPS manifold.  He wished that his job was as simple as trying to revive a dying ship.  "Just came down to see how you were doing."

"Well, just need one or two more casualty power cables in place, and we'll be ready to jump start the warp core."  She commented, turning towards the direction of the working party.  "Major Hayes was kind enough to loan me some of his MACO's.  They might not know a lick about reactor physics, but they can strongback anything into place."

"So, 2300 hours huh?"

"That's what I told Lieutenant Reed."  Hess replied, a small smirk adorning her face.

"Which I would believe, if I didn't know your former boss."  He countered, knowing that she was employing one of his hollowed tenets of Engineering.

"Hey, I learned from the best."  

"So, what's the real answer?"  Trip inquired.

"Another five hours sir, tops."  Anna had expected her boss would be thrilled by her progress, but the news didn't seem to inspire him.  "Something wrong sir?"

"No, nothing at all." he replied.  'Just less time than I thought.' 

Trip turned towards the exit, confusing his young assistant even further.  "You don't wanna stay around and lend a hand sir?"

'Yes' he silently thought.  The invitation was so tempting, but there were more pressing matters to attend to.  "Nah, I gotta a couple more rounds to make before we get underway.  Keep up the good work though."  He encouraged before parting.

Sorrow accompanied the newly forged Captain as he trudged to his next destination.  'This probably wasn't what Malcolm had in mind when he suggested I take a break.' He mused to himself.  But he had put of Phlox's request for an audience long enough.

The screams from outside were enough to make Trip want to reconsider.  But the doors to sickbay had already parted at his presence, permitting him to gaze upon the distress held within.  The room was filled with those who were struggling for their very lives, another addition to his legacy as Captain. Trip quietly worked his way through the wounded masses to the Doctor's side.

"Doc."  Trip announced as he stood in rapture of the severe burns of Phlox's current charge, watching him administer a hypospray to the patients' neck.

"For the pain."  Was Phlox's cryptic reply.  "With the imaging chamber destroyed there's little I can do for him."  He continued, handing Trip a PADD from within his pocket.

Trip knew what it was before he even read it.  But he was certain the first name on the list had to be in error.  "Cutler?"  He said in astonishment.  "She was in here helping you out just the other day."

"Internal bleeding."  Phlox replied dejectedly.  "She came in right after the attack, aiding in any way she could.  I never thought to check her for injuries, there were just so many more in obvious pain.  When we finally got everyone stabilized she decided to take a quick nap.  I thought nothing of it because we'd been going for the past two days.  But when I tried to wake her up, I…I couldn't."  It was readily apparent that Phlox was taking her loss particularly hard.  But his misery would be quickly matched as Trip read the next name.

'_Cole, Amanda.  Cpl, MACO._'   Trip could feel the anguish beginning to well up inside of him, but now was hardly the time.  He simply made a mental note that Major Hayes would be better suited to write her letter.  What he had learned of the woman prior to her death would be woefully insufficient.  

"Captain, I know you've been very busy…" Phlox started, regaining some semblance of composure.

"Go ahead Doc, what is it?"

"I am running out of space to store the deceased.  The bodies will need to be disposed of soon to ensure the health of the remaining crew."

Trip couldn't help but shiver from the cold and detached words of Phlox's request, but it was a problem he had anticipated.  There just had not been enough time the render a proper ceremony.  And Trip was not ready to simply commit their bodies to the depths of space without a proper tribute, he owed them that much. 

"Doc, we'll find something to do with them soon."  Trip said, turning towards the exit.

"Commander Tucker," Phlox called, his arm extending as he handed Trip a hypospray. "You almost forgot."

'No, I don't think I could.' Trip thought as he took the proffered instrument.  "Thanks Doc."

He stepped back out into the passageway, rounding the corner towards his final destination, his quarters.

This should have been a place where he could receive a quiet respite from the raging storm that had enveloped his mind.  But as he keyed the access pad, opening the door to his quarters, he knew no such reprieve was forthcoming.  He moved slowly towards the chair that was positioned in front of his bed, affording him an unobstructed view of the still form that lay dormant within.

She had been moved to his quarters two days ago at the behest of Dr. Phlox.  Her quarters had been destroyed in the fray and those with more serious injuries were rapidly filling sickbay by the hour.  Surprising, it was Reed who suggested using the Chief Engineer's stateroom for T'Pol's recovery.  The Lieutenant's reasoning was quite logical, albeit slightly morose.  '_It's not as if you'll be using them anytime soon.' _Trip recalled from an earlier conversation.

But of all the failings he had experienced in the past 72 hours, this was the most personal.  It was rivaled only by the apparent loss of the Captain.  She was his friend, his counsel and on rare occasions even transcended into something greater and yet he allowed _this_ to happen.  He sat before her for several timeless minutes, watching her meager breaths as she slumbered.   A small part of him wished today would be the day she emerged from her self-induced coma, her mind and body made anew.   But he knew it was far too soon.   Reluctantly, he reached out with his arm, applying the hypospray to her neck.  Her head lolled into the back of his hand as the hypospray hissed in relief.  

"I'm sorry T'Pol."  He murmured aloud the confession of his guilty heart. 

"_The blame is hardly yours._"  Whispered an ethereal voice from the recesses of his mind, a voice reminiscent of her, starling him slightly.  Why his conscience would choose to emulate her was beyond him.  

Trip freed his hand from the wedge created by T'Pol's neck and chin, her head rolling square on the pillow once more.  He noticed a lock of her auburn crown that had become displaced, compelling him to tuck the stray wisp back behind her ear.  As his thumb traced the gentle contours of her ear towards its apex, he decided to ask the voice in his mind the one question to which he had no answer. 

"Why T'Pol?"

_'Because at the time it was the logical thing to do.'_

'Logic.'  He thought silently. 'Logic and reason.'  Two qualities that in her were made manifest, two qualities of which he was in desperate need.   Perhaps there was a method to his conscience's perceived madness. 

He watched as she shivered against the chill of the air, prompting him to fetch another blanket for her.  He covered her body up to her neck with the blanket, hoping it would be enough to fight back the cold.  And while Trip knew that knew he was only talking to himself, he realized just how much his missed her voice; longed for her sage wisdom.

"You know, Malcolm's doing a fine job as your replacement, though he's not nearly as pretty to look at."  He started, hoping maybe she'd finch an eyebrow in response to his audacity.  But it was for not.

"And Lieutenant Hess is managing in my stead."  He added, pausing momentarily before deciding to share real dilemma.  "I only wish I could the same for the acting Captain."

Trip waited patiently for his mind to comment, but no such rebuttal was forthcoming.  In fact the only protest he received was that of T'Pol's arm, struggling mightily against the confines of the covers.  Trip acceded to her request and turned the blanket down; permitting her arm the freedom it so desperately sought before continuing his solemn monologue.   

"I'm not cut out for this, T'Pol."  He rejoined, unwittingly reaching out for her hand as if in need of moral support.  "Putting a ship back together is one thing.  But a Captain is supposed to inspire hope amongst the crew, something I'm failing at miserably."

'Your doubt is unfounded.  You have led the crew to success before; this time shall be no different.'

He let the words of her voice roll around in his head briefly before commenting.  But he would not be afforded the opportunity.

"Reed to Tucker."  Chirped the comm panel near the door.  Trip looked back towards the chronometer, if only to confirm his suspicions.  "2010," He commented, "right on time."

"Reed to Tucker."  Called the Lieutenant once again.  But Trip still made no move to answer it, casting his gaze back towards her instead.

"You know T'Pol; I wish you really were awake.  So I could hear you say what I'm about to do is right and justify how leaving John behind is the 'logical' thing to do.  Then maybe I wouldn't be so pissed at myself, like I'm about to betray him.  But the scary thing is, I think I already know your answer would be, and doesn't make it any easier."

"Lieutenant Reed to Captain Tucker."  

He released her hand from his grasp, rising from the chair to finally answer Malcolm's beckon call.

"Tucker here, go."

"Sir, Lieutenant Hess reports the warp drive is operational." 

"Have you found anything yet?"

A painful pause hung in the air before Malcolm finally replied.  "Negative sir."

"Alright, I'm on my way up.  Set a course for Earth, best speed."

"But sir, we can still search for another…"  

"Malcolm," Trip interrupted, "we gotta go."  

"Yes, sir."  Came Reed's pained reply.

"Tucker out."  He said, banging the comm panel off in frustration.  He leaned against the threshold for support, looking back over at T'Pol once move.  He'd just made the toughest decision of his life and there was no turning back.  And no matter how much it hurt he had to get through this.  Something he knew could do, as long as she was there.

"Please T'Pol, get better soon.  I've just abandoned one friend; I don't think I could bare the thought of losing another."  

He exited out into the passageway, purposely walking towards to access tube back to the Bridge before he stopped, the true gravity of his actions summed up in a single thought.

'Thirty-seven.'

The End


End file.
